Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online Page B

seize the power of a tomb below Marsis. The tomb’s power devoured her, the invasion failed, and Kylon barely escaped with the Kyracian fleet, his mind heavy with the knowledge that he was now the High Seat of House Kardamnos. 
    And in the two years since, New Kyre had fought the Empire in a war that Andromache had started for her own aggrandizement. 
    Most of New Kyre thought House Kardamnos would fall into disgrace after Andromache’s defeat, but Kylon had reversed that. He had won victory after victory against the Emperor’s fleets. At last the Assembly had appointed him thalarchon of the Seventh Fleet, and he had utterly crushed the Empire’s western fleet. 
    The prestige of House Kardamnos had been restored. 
    Yet Kylon still needed to wed. His parents had been murdered when he was a child, and his only sister had died in Marsis. He was the last legitimate scion of House Kardamnos, and his cousins could not inherit the title if he died. 
    He needed a legitimate heir. 
    So he planned to wed, to find a bride from among the nobles of New Kyre. His victories raised his prestige among the citizens of the Assembly, and he had expected no trouble finding a suitable wife among them.
    He had not, however, expected to fall in love.
    And so Kylon found himself on the balcony of his chambers in the Tower of Kardamnos with Thalastre of House Ixionos. 
    Her father was the Exarch of Kyrant, one of the Kyracian colonies on the islands of the western sea. The Exarch was a stern and pitiless man, and House Ixionos was rich in prestige but poor in wealth. When the Exarch offered his daughter, Kylon had expected either a humorless spinster with the Exarch’s disposition and features, or a wild-haired island savage.
    He had certainly not expected someone like Thalastre. 
    “More wine, my lord?” said Thalastre.
    “Please,” said Kylon, lost in his thoughts.
    One of the middle-aged female slaves Thalastre had brought from Kyrant stepped onto the balcony, a carafe of wine in her hands. The balcony had a fine view of the central distracts of New Kyre, the ziggurats of the noble houses, the canals gleaming like ribbons of steel between their bases. Beyond rose the massive Pyramid of the Storm, where the Assembly met to govern the Kyracian people. Past the Pyramid he saw the vast expanse of New Kyre’s harbor, the finest in the world, its entrance guarded by two massive statues of ashtairoi that doubled as both lighthouses and fortresses. 
    The wealthiest city in the world…and in danger of falling to the Empire without a single drop of blood. 
    Kylon’s power with the sorcery of water gave him the ability to sense emotions, and the emotions rising from the city were…strained. Men feared the future, feared war and famine…
    The slave poured the wine.
    “Thank you,” he said. 
    The slave blinked in surprise, smiled, and lowered her eyes. Kylon had grown up around slaves, had been served by them all his life. Then he had met that cold-eyed Ghost woman in Marsis. To save her friend’s son from the life of a slave, she had killed Rezir Shahan and thrown the attack upon Marsis into disarray. 
    She had changed the fate of nations, all to save her friend’s son from a slave’s collar.
    Ever since then, Kylon could not be comfortable around slaves. 
    “You seem grim, my lord,” said Thalastre. “Does the wine displease you?”
    “It does not,” said Kylon, taking a sip. “I have already drunk far too much of it, given that I must address the Assembly tomorrow. But it is excellent wine.”
    “Caerish,” said Thalastre, “from the vineyards near Caer Marist, I understand. My father obtained a stock of it before the war began.” She laughed. “For all that he detests the Empire, he enjoys his Caerish wine.”
    “A surprising man, the Exarch,” said Kylon. “Perhaps he passed it on to you.”
    She smiled. “You found me surprising, my lord thalarchon?”
    “Constantly,” said Kylon.
    He looked at her for a